Daughter of Nienor
by Elen of the Sapphire Eyes
Summary: Nienor fell into the water, but didn't die. Then she decided to give her child a chance at life... Please read beyond the first few chapters - it gets better as it goes along.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is my first story, so constructive criticism would be helpful. **

**Disclaimer: If I owned LOTR, Silmarillion and Children of Hurin, I would be very happy.**

**The story starts with Nienor jumping into Cabed Naeramarth.**

**Nienor POV**

Turin, my love, my husband, was… MY BROTHER?

No! I denied my thoughts, This is not true! It is the last malicious act of Glaurung!

But my heart told me, This is true, and you know it.

And I knew it was right, and I knew what I had to do.

Looking down upon Turin, I cried: "Farewell, O twice beloved! _A Turin Turambar turun ambartanen: _master of doom by doom mastered! O happy to be dead!" And then Brandir ran towards me, and faintly through my mist of horror and anguish I saw him; but I knew he would try to stop me, and I ran from him.

I ran to the brink of the canyon, and looking upon the wild river I threw myself over.

And as I fell, I looked to my death, and I was glad.

Then a pain jarred my head, and the blackness took me, and covered me with its welcoming arms.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Refer to Ch. 1 for this. **

**Nienor POV**

The sound of birds chirping.

The feel of pebbles below my back.

The rush of the river.

The mist… of pain.

What? I asked myself. I can feel pain in death?

Something lapped against me. A wave.

I was totally confused. It would appear that I was still alive. But that made no sense!

Wait… why was I supposed to be dead?

Memory returned. The pain. The river. The canyon. The horror, the anguish.

Turin… was my brother.

With a gasp, I opened my eyes. I was lying beside the river, on a remote, pebbly beach. A forest surrounded me on three sides, the fourth being the river, of course.

And I was not dead.

My vision was suddenly distorted by a red wave of fury. I could not even kill myself! Could the Valar grant no mercy?

I lay there for a long time, praying to the Valar to kill me.

But when nothing happened, I decided I had to do it myself. Again.

I could use a pointy rock… or a sharp stick… or just jump off a tall tree…

I heaved my aching body up and walked into the forest to kill myself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Refer to Ch. 1 for this.**

**Nienor's POV**

I had long since abandoned the pointy rock and sharp stick ideas – there were none large and sharp enough – and was now only looking for a really tall tree. And it had to be _really_ tall, or the Valar would revive me again.

I looked up. Maybe that one… it looked pretty tall…

I tripped over a tree root, and fell on my stomach.

My first thought: The baby.

It was at this point that I suddenly remembered the baby.

My first reaction was fury. The Valar would even let a man impregnate his sister!

My second reaction: weariness. Would my troubles never end? Or would they go on forever, even after death?

I sat down heavily on the tree root that had tripped me and began a mental debate.

_Would I save my baby?_


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Refer to Ch. 1 for this.**

**Nienor's POV**

I was now in my ninth month of pregnancy and expecting to give birth very soon.

Obviously, I had decided to save my baby.

I wasn't sure why I did it. Was there even really a reason? But it had seemed that there was a voice in my head… telling me to save him/her.

My conscience? Or the voice of the Valar?

Either way, I had given in.

I'm not sure how I survived, living mainly on berries and a few plants. Occasionally I came across a carcass, an animal killed by another; and of these I ate greedily.

I lived in a cave, a good cave whose occupant had probably died just before I entered.

I had had an abundance of good luck.

Even so, however, it was uncomfortable and dreary. But I lived with it… for the baby.

I had made a plan. After I gave birth, I would name the baby (Olwen, Dream Lady, for a girl, or Amarthada, Doom Father, for a boy) and send it to Thingol. I would place it just inside Melian's Girdle with a note (written with charcoal on slate; I had had amazing good luck in finding them) saying, 'Take care of my baby (insert name here) for me. Thank you. Nienor.' I would then go kill myself.

My main goal still had not changed.

I was very large now; I could barely move, and was glad I had left berries on a ledge specifically for these days.

There may have been luck, but there was planning too.

I reached for another berry –

And felt an intense pain as my water broke.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Refer to Ch. 1 for this.**

**Nienor's POV**

Pain.

A mist of pain, the way I had felt when I woke up beside the river.

Intense, racking pain and it came in waves, waves of horrible pain and I couldn't do this, I couldn't…

I had to.

My mind flew back to a day, some time ago in Brethil, when I had watched a woman give birth. I grabbed the memory, sifted through it, looked for the instructions she had received. _Push._

I pushed.

Oh, if only someone were here to help…

I continued. Pain. Pain. My whole world was pain.

It was lessening!

I pushed harder.

And then I felt it, something came out and my stomach deflated, and I grabbed a sharp rock and cut the cord.

I picked up my baby. My daughter.

Olwen.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Refer to Ch. 1 for this.**

**Nienor's POV**

She looked exactly like Turin.

Absolutely, totally, exactly like Turin.

Well, actually, that wasn't true. She had six toes on each foot, probably due to my stressful pregnancy – I had been sure it affected her in some way. Or maybe it was due to the relationship of her parents.

Turin had had perfectly normal amounts of toes.

But otherwise…

I could barely hold back my tears when I looked at her.

I spent three weeks recovering – mostly just lying in the cave, eating berries – and trying to figure out the way to Doriath.

When I was finally ready, I made a tiny travelling cradle of sticks, leaves and moss, put Olwen in it and set off.

Considering my skill level, it was actually a pretty easy journey.

It was all through forest, which helped a lot, since I probably could not have survived otherwise. I was always careful, wary, barely sleeping, and so I managed to avoid Orc patrols. I eventually got to the place where I figured Melian's Girdle, roughly, ought to be. I went a little farther, just in case, and set down Olwen, with the note beside her.

Leaving what had been my reason for existence for so long left me feeling empty for a moment. But then the steel of a new purpose filled me.

I went out of Olwen's sight and hearing, climbed a tree, and jumped.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Two things. One, sorry for the long wait. I was at camp. Two, thank you lokimademedoit for reading and reviewing my story, as well as putting it on story alerts. This is my first completely positive review and you're the first person who liked the story enough to put it in story alerts.**

**Also, I recommend reading beleg-cuthalion-strongbow's story Spy for Sauron and Elenna123's story Daughter of Luthien:Captain of the Orcs, as these stories will eventually lead into each other (in the sequel). **

**Disclaimer: Refer to Ch. 1 for this.**

**Mablung's POV**

It was just another ordinary patrol. Which means completely boring and uneventful.

My patrol and I were strolling calmly through the forest a few meters away from Melian's Girdle, chatting (but don't tell Thingol and Melian that) when everything suddenly changed, becoming out of the ordinary, quite un-boring and rather eventful.

What happened was this: we heard a baby's cry.

We were all totally confused. I mean, there aren't supposed to be any babies a few meters inside Melian's Girdle, for safety reasons. Plus, no one appeared to be with the baby, as no one was calming him/her down. There was even less chance of there being an abandoned baby here. And Orcs would have killed the baby and the person with him/her. This made absolutely no sense.

We approached the baby warily, expecting a trap, and were quite surprised when there was none. We were more surprised, though, when we saw the baby.

Why the #$%& was there a random abandoned female baby who looked exactly like Turin (other than having twelve toes) lying a few meters inside Melian's Girdle in a cradle of sticks, leaves and moss?

No, our usual patrols are NOT like this.

We must have stood there in shock for several minutes before I finally broke out of it and got closer.

Then I saw the note.

It was written with charcoal on slate. With a trembling voice I read it out loud: 'Take care of my baby (Olwen) for me. Thank you. Nienor.'

WHAT?!

But Nienor was dead! She had jumped into Cabed Naeramarth! Her baby had died with her! Brandir had witnessed it! It was impossible that her baby should be lying in front of me in a crude cradle with a note for me to take care of her!

But her body was never found. And the baby looked just like Turin (other than the toes). As impossible as it seemed, the proof was a meter or so in front of me.

Which meant that Nienor might still be alive.

As soon as I thought of that, I turned to my patrol. "Try to find Nienor," I ordered. I gave them directions, and they fanned out. They would give an owl hoot if they found her. If they found nothing, they would return after searching half a kilometre.

An owl hoot!

I set off in the direction of the owl hoot… and found a member of my patrol under a tree, beside a body.

Nienor's body was still warm.

We stood in silence for a moment, and when the rest of the patrol had joined us, we returned to Olwen.

Quietly, sadly, we walked back to Menegroth with her.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: For those who care, Elenuial means Twilight Star. **

**Disclaimer: Refer to Ch. 1 for this.**

**Mablung's POV**

When we returned, there was quite a commotion.

This was probably due to the fact that it was very uncommon to see a patrol of elves returning early with extremely sad faces, led by a sad Mablung of the Heavy Hand with a female baby who looked exactly like Turin, but had twelve toes.

Seriously, there was this huge crowd of elves staring at us. Plus all the elves running to get others to stare at us. It was annoying.

We ignored them all and walked straight to Thingol and Melian. They would know what to do with Olwen.

When we were done explaining, everyone stood in a thoughtful, sad silence for a while. Finally Melian spoke. "It seems to me," she said, "that one of us must adopt Olwen. And I believe that it ought to be you, Mablung."

I looked up, caught off guard and extremely startled. "Me? Why? I have no experience..."

Melian said, "Because you're the one who found her and carried her here, the first to touch her after her mother left. That means a lot."

I thought about it for a moment, and decided she was right. My easy agreement was probably mostly due to the fact that, now that I thought about it, I really wanted to adopt Olwen. I'd never really thought about having children before.

Besides, my beloved wife Elenuial would be very pleased. She had always wanted children.

I agreed and brought Olwen to meet her mother.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Thank you Caunedhiel and LadyOfNargothrond for putting Daughter of Nienor on story alerts. The increasing amount of readers is extremely encouraging. **

**WARNING: This chapter contains extreme fluff. If you are not a fluff reader, do not read this chapter.**

**Disclaimer: Refer to Ch. 1 for this.**

**Mablung's POV**

I had never seen Elenuial this happy. Not even when she married me. She was simply ecstatic. In fact, she was talking lovingly to Olwen almost before I had finished explaining.

"Do you like it here in Menegroth, Olwen? It's nice, isn't it? My name is Elenuial. I'm going to be your new mother, and Mablung, the elf who carried you here, is going to be your new father. Mablung, would you please pass her to me? I'm going to show you our house. There's the kitchen…" Her voice faded out of my hearing.

I smiled. It was clear that Elenuial really liked this new development.

I spent a while distractedly making dinner, thinking of how to get Olwen settled. After awhile, I heard Elenuial again.

"…smell it? It smells good, doesn't it? Mablung's making dinner. I sound like an idiot, don't I? I'm not usually this talkative. I'm just happy, because you've come to live with me."

Olwen smiled.

It was probably just gas… but I liked to think that it wasn't.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: From now on I will be taking a few liberties with time. For example, when it says of the Dwarves working on the union of the Silmaril and the Nauglamir 'long was their labour', I'm making it more or less one year; and when it says 'long they sat taking thought for vengeance', I'm making it approximately half a year. Also, Morgoth hid Olwen from Hurin due to her happy life, therefore Hurin still acts the same way as before. Unfortunately, when he gets to Doriath and Melian shows him 'the truth of all that was done', including Olwen, Hurin decides that since Olwen will also be cursed, and he has been twice cursed, living with Olwen would be three curses in the same place, and would probably kill Doriath. Therefore, he wanders off and eventually kills himself, as stated in The Silmarillion. **

**Disclaimer: Refer to Ch. 1 for this.**

**Elenuial's POV**

A shadow had fallen over Doriath.

The first two years of our life with Olwen were happy and carefree. Indeed, they were the happiest years of my life. I had finally gotten the child I always wanted, I was married to my beloved Mablung, and everything was good. Olwen was quite active by then, and ran everywhere. It was obvious that she would be a very active child, and probably a prankster.

Then Thingol was slain by the Dwarves, and Melian left.

Everyone expected the Dwarves to attack soon. Our lives were grim and wary. Without Melian's Girdle, we would not be able to simply keep out the Dwarves. We would have to fight.

Olwen ran around asking everyone why they were so sad. People smiled to see her, but once they left, shadow fell upon them once more.

I had endured this for half a year when the bedraggled elf arrived, giving the warning for which we had waited so long: "The Dwarves are attacking!" It was shocking, and yet it was not. Somehow, it still came as a surprise.

However, it really was a surprise when Mablung told me to take Olwen and flee. I began to protest, but Mablung cut me off. "Save Olwen," he said. "Please. For Hurin, Turin, Nienor and me."

I could not protest, so, weeping, I ran off. Silently, I scaled a tree.

And I watched as my world fell.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Err… Hi? -peeks from behind tree- No, I did not run off with the Blue Wizards, neither Sauron nor Morgoth tried to kill me, nor did I run into a hostile orc-party bent on slaughtering everything in its path…**

**Disclaimer: Refer to Ch. 1 for this.**

**Elenuial's POV**

They walked over his body.

They had already killed him. They had the accursed jewel. Why did they have to _walk over his body_ on the way out of the cave?!

They didn't even care. They just walked right on like they had walked on perfectly normal ground.

I slid down the tree, Olwen half-forgotten in my arms, and wept over him. I cried for at least an hour. And then I heard it.

Mablung groaned.

I dropped Olwen, who seemed to understand that his was a private moment and went somewhere (I didn't notice where), and bent over him. He groaned again.

HE WAS ALIVE! Thank the Valar, praise Eru, he was alive!

Mablung slowly peeled open his eyes.

"How do you feel?" I asked.

He made a sound somewhere between a rasp and a moan. I hastily got him some water.

"Like I was speared through my stomach by an extremely short weapon wielded by a creature half my size, left for dead, then run over by a pack of angry Dwarves," he said. "Which all happened, except I'm not sure about the last one."

"That happened while you were lying on the ground in front of the cave, with everyone thinking you were dead – including me. Don't you _ever_ scare me like that again!" I chided. But my overwhelming relief and joy was soon replaced with concern. He _was_ hurt, after all, and my protective instincts were taking over.

"Anyways, I'm staying here and tending to you. You're in no shape to be moved, and I'm sure I can live off the forest. We'll just stay here until someone notices that Doriath is maintaining a strange silence and comes over to investigate, or until you're healed and can hobble off to another kingdom. Whichever comes first."

"Elenuial the forest woman," he said with a proud smile. Then, all of a sudden, he asked, "Where's Olwen?"

Luckily, before I could panic, Olwen came running over. "Look, Mablung!" She said with evident delight. "A pretty flower!" She held up a bloom of elanor.

Mablung smiled. "Yes, Olwen," he said happily, "pretty."


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: Refer to Ch. 1 for this.**

**Elenuial's POV**

Soon after Mablung awoke, the remains of Doriath came. They welcomed us; but they could not help us much, for all they had to give was their company. They, too, had wounded elves to care for, and together we waited for aid.

It was not long in coming.

A few days after Doriath fell, Dior came with a group of elves. He expressed his condolences for our losses, took over, and began rebuilding a kingdom. Eventually, we began to prosper again. We flourished, but gone were the days of peace and unbounded joy. No longer did the Girdle protect us from danger; and it was a lucky day if there wasn't a border skirmish or a raid. Now we lived in constant fear for our husbands and sons. The warrior training, previously often unnecessary and skipped, was now mandatory, and more rigorous than ever before.

Not all was well, whether it seemed to be or not.

We lived like this for quite a while, until another disaster befell us, again due to that accursed jewel.

Olwen was 14, a fine girl, tall and strong. She was also very fast, could walk amazingly softly and could hear amazingly well. These were all fallouts of her very active childhood: when she was younger, she would prank someone at least once every other day, proving my prediction right. She still occasionally pulled a 'joke' on some poor elf. In fact, she was rigging up a water bucket (which I pretended not to know about) when the messenger came.

Soon after the messenger left, Dior made a public announcement; and about his neck he wore the Nauglamir with the Silmaril shining in the middle. He warned that the sons of Fëanor would come, and he told everyone to prepare. The warrior training was increased, the mood wary and grim. Yet none of it helped.

Only a few months later, the sons of Fëanor came and my world was again destroyed. This time, it was less scary and more sad and annoying, like I was getting used to it. Both Mablung and Olwen fought (Olwen was not authorized to fight, but she did anyways), but they were separated, and only Olwen survived.

Mablung fell, somewhere in the battle, unknown, unnamed, unremembered except by Olwen and me.

I think if it were not for Olwen, I would have killed myself immediately. As it was, I could barely comprehend that we were fleeing, that we had saved the Silmaril, anything except that Mablung was dead. Sometimes through the mist of sadness and weakness I heard snatches of voices, usually Olwen's, speaking in grave, sad tones about fading and uselessness.

A few weeks later, I finally gave up.


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: Refer to Ch. 1 for this.**

**Olwen's POV**

Fourteen years. Fourteen years of love. Fourteen years of happiness. Fourteen years of family.

And now they were gone.

Mablung's face swam into my mind's eye. So cheerful, and generous, and he always had time for me. He had never let me down.

Elenuial stood beside him. My rock, the one I leaned on, and looked to for hope and comfort. She had always been there for me.

And in the space of three weeks, I had lost both of them.

I remembered, dimly, the good times, the happy times. We had joked about it, about this. 'If I die, you'll get all the sugar, okay?' One of Mablung's terrible jokes.

We had laughed. We had all laughed.

How could they be – but no, they were not dead, they could not be dead…

But they were.

I could not bear it, the terrible grief, I had to do something, say something, scream and scream until my voice went hoarse and died… died like them…

I was crying, crying, couldn't stop crying, oh Mablung, please Elenuial, I was supposed to die, not you, oh please not you, it can't have been you…

Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, couldn't summon the energy to move, to do anything, to eat or drink, though it had been hours now since my last meal… Mablung's burnt-bread specialty… Elenuial's apple pie…

Sleeping fitfully, nightmares, watching Mablung falling, seeing Elenuial die before my eyes, while the bread grew moldy on my bedside table…

Voices now, so far away, I could barely hear them through the white mist, my throat was burning, I didn't care… nothing, nothing left…

'She's dying, she won't eat or drink, it's been two days now. Can't you do something?'

'I can keep her alive, but she might not thank me for it.'

'She will later. She'll learn to live with it. I don't want any more wasted lives…'

'Okay, I'll do it… from what you said she seems a nice enough girl, anyways.'

Footsteps, and gentle hands lifting me…Elenuial tucking me in, though I protested that I was too old for it…

I slid gratefully into oblivion.


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: Refer to Ch. 1 for this.**

**Olwen's POV**

"Come on, girl – Olwen, right? – come on, Olwen, you have to eat. Yes, good… now drink… good…"

I obeyed numbly. Nothing mattered, after all. If it made her happy, I would do as she said.

"Good girl. Oh Eru, now I sound like I'm talking to a dog. 'Good girl, good dog.' Honestly, Olwen, _do_ something! Without me asking you to! Look, I know you've lost Túrin, Nienor, Mablung and Elenuial already, but honestly…"

She was still talking, but I didn't hear her. For the first time in days, something had pierced my numb stupor.

Why had she said I'd lost Túrin and Nienor?

Though my thoughts were slow, faint and sluggish, I eventually put together the pieces. Mablung and Elenuial were my foster parents… so it made sense that Túrin and Nienor were my birth parents.

Wait… WHAT?

I sat bolt upright, shocked, barely noticing her startled look. "Are Túrin and Nienor my parents?"

"Of course they – Oh Valar, you weren't supposed to know until later! And I went and told you!"

I thought furiously, recalling every detail of the tale of the Children of Húrin that I could remember. Luckily, I had been paying attention when my history teacher had told me about them. I had thought, then, that she had looked strangely shifty throughout the whole story. Now I knew why.

Maybe if I redeemed my parents' names… but no, that was just wishful thinking.

Still, after that I became determined to do something so great that all of Túrin's accidental evils were eclipsed. Perhaps my subconscious simply couldn't let go of the idiotic idea that it would somehow bring Mablung and Elenuial back. I became obsessed with it.

How to go about it, though?

One day, I had an idea. It was actually a totally meaningless act, that would go absolutely nowhere in redeeming Túrin's evils, but I couldn't let go of it.

I would steal Anguirel.


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: Refer to Ch. 1 for this.**

**Olwen's POV**

I wasn't going to do it right away, of course. It was a long-term plan. First I had to get better, at tracking, stealth, fighting, etc. In fact, the situation was perfect. Because everyone wanted to keep our settlement a secret, I had to sneak out to fight. Because the orcs weren't exactly sitting there waiting for me, I had to track them. I was furious at the deaths of Mablung and Elenuial, and fighting orcs became a release for my anger, if not exactly therapy. If anyone knew, they didn't say anything about it.

One day, I sneaked out to fight a band of orcs that had recently passed by, and also to escape the tension in the camp. The letters from the Fëanorians had set everyone on edge, and I hated it. The last two times the atmosphere around me had felt like this, there had been terrible slaughters.

I was so distracted I was lucky to get away with a slashed-up arm. Having often ended up wounded after my forays, I had also learned battlefield healing, and so I spent several minutes plastering herbs onto it before returning.

By the time I was back, it was all over.

I stared, shocked, at the scene of total devastation in front of me. Everything was in shambles, and there was no one left, only the dead. Out of the corner of my eye I saw movement. Ships sailed away, carrying with them the last of my people. All my friends, everything I had left...

I crumpled to the ground and wept.

XXXX

It was many hours later when I finally moved.

Slowly, I sat up. I felt drained, empty. How had I not realized how precious my friends were? All that time I had grieved for Mablung and Elenuial, shutting out everyone else... Gone, gone, everything was gone. How I hated that jewel! The blood of everything I had ever known was on it.

Only one thing was left.

I would redeem the name of my parents. I would honour my pledge. But after that... after that, there was nothing left.

I stood up and walked away, leaving behind the lifeless remnants of my world.


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: Refer to Ch. 1 for this.**

**Olwen's POV**

I walked long that day, blinded to the calls of food, water and sleep by my grief. But their call came upon me suddenly as I made camp; and for a moment I felt faint. I had neither eaten nor drunk since the morning. I knelt by the banks of Sirion and filled my gourds. I drained one, refilled it, and left to gather food (and possibly hunt, if there was any game to be had.) I snared a rabbit and brought it back to the camp, to be partially cooked and eaten with a few herbs and berries. I then smoked the rest, put out the fire and settled down for a good night's sleep.

It was not to be.

Almost as soon as I fell asleep, there came the sound of a twig snapping. It brought me instantly to my feet, sword out. I thanked Eru that I was a light sleeper as I saw the Orcs. Seeing that the element of surprise was lost, the Orcs charged.

I fought for most of the night. When finally the Orcs were dead, I threw myself down and slept at last. It was long into the morning before I woke. Wondering ruefully if this was to happen every night – it had not been a good start, and had left me in a bad mood – I refilled my supplies and continued on my way.

The same thing happened again that night, and the next, and the next, although luckily not the one after that. I was getting seriously tired by that point, although my sword and knife skills as well as my senses had dramatically improved. (I had not often gotten the chance to use my bow.) Of course, they came back _again_ the night after that. Besides the Orc problem, however, the only thing worth mentioning in that long, grief-filled journey was the painful memories that the shattered, Orc-filled remains of Doriath brought up. It was a struggle to put them in the back of my mind as memories filled my mind: Mablung's farewell wave… The shock of counting the returning warriors and not finding him among them… Elenuial slowly fading from grief…

At long last, I reached the end of my journey. Staring at those giant, forbidding mountains, I finally understood how Gondolin had remained hidden. The idea had seemed absurd at first: hide a giant, many-splendored city, with eagles flying around it, behind a couple of mountains? But now I finally understood, for in all the explanations, no one had ever mentioned to me how amazingly _tall_ the mountains were. It was hard to imagine that it was even possible to pass them, but I knew I would. Eventually, I found the long-abandoned tunnel and crossed it.

I could barely believe the sight that met my eyes. The destroyed glory, the tarnished wonder… It was and is impossible to explain the sight of fallen Gondolin. It was a hauntingly perfect image twisted to darkness, the end of what was once beautiful. Blood dried on murals, charred holes decorated tapestries, bodies hung silhouetted against windows, fountains ran red with the blood of elves… The deadly silence slowly filled my ears, full of the whispers of the dead. _You were not there… You did not come… You did not help us…_

Suddenly, violently, I broke free of the spell. I literally ran to the cliff. Grabbing the sword, I fled from that place of ghosts. Only when I was far, far away did I stop.


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: Refer to Ch. 1 for this.**

**Olwen's POV**

Finding Anguirel had been surprisingly easy. It had fallen beside Maeglin's body, almost directly below the place where he and Tuor had fought. Maeglin's eyes, still amazingly sharp, had seemed to bore into me, accusing…

No! Think about something else!

The sword, yes, the sword. It was a strange weapon, supposedly made of a fallen star. Maeglin had used it on his adventures, until finally it came to rest in Gondolin, beautiful, horrific, destroyed Gondolin, that place of ghosts…

About Anguirel! Well, apparently Anglachel could speak. Perhaps Anguirel could too? I frowned, mulling over that thought. "Can you talk?" I asked the sword, and immediately felt foolish. "Only I heard that Anglachel could talk so…"

Suddenly, Anguirel vibrated in my hands. I looked down in shock and found tear-shaped rocks falling down its length, then being reabsorbed. Somehow, this strange form of crying did not mess up its shape. In a slightly over-dramatically grief-struck voice, Anguirel gasped out, "_Don't talk to me about Angie!_"

…Angie?!

I backtracked. "Alright, alright, I won't," I hastily said. Under my breath, I muttered to myself, "Just my luck. Stuck with a drama queen sword. I personally think this should make up for at least half…" Luckily, Anguirel did not hear me.

Alright, _when_ did I start thinking things like 'Luckily, my sword didn't hear me'?!

Rhiach*! I was going insane!

Ah well, Mablung always said that only insane people enjoyed life… Mablung, dead… Elenuial fading –

And I thought I was over my grief!

Really, could I think of _nothing_ that wouldn't end in unpleasant thoughts?

You know what? I thought to myself. What I need is a new mission. Hopefully one that ends in a _nice_ place. Not like destroyed Gondolin, amazing, terrible –

And I was doing so well.

Well, no, I wasn't doing well, but the phrase sounded nice…

Anyways. A new mission. Let me see…

After awhile, I finally gave up. I couldn't think of anything. I hesitated, then decided that perhaps there would be more things to do in a new land. So I rose and began walking towards Eriador.

*An elvish swearword


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N:**** Many thanks to Kwantum for letting me use the Valar Help Phone, a 'phoning' system for anyone wishing to contact the Valar/Valier/Eru. Kwantum has full custody of the Valar Help Phone. Anyone wishing to use the Valar Help Phone must first persuade Kwantum.**

**I highly recommend reading the Mellon Chronicles. They're not on ; the URL is ****http (colon) (slash) (slash) www . aragorn (dash) legolas . 5u . com (slash) main1 . html****. **

**Disclaimer: Refer to Ch. 1 for this.**

**Third Person POV**

Mandos was bored.

Mandos was very, very, _very_ bored.

Everything in the Halls was exactly the way he wanted it to be, down to the last nonexistent speck of dust. The stereo he had built himself (with much help from Aulë) was playing creepy, sad music. The machine he (well, more like Aulë with some help from him) had built was hanging up Vairë's weavings perfectly. There was nobody available for him to say 'doom' in an impressively echoing, doom-laden voice to. The fëar had long since stopped rebelling. There weren't any bananas to find new ways to cook.

Mandos had nothing to do, and there was nothing Mandos liked less than having nothing to do.

XXXXX

Ilúvatar was overworked.

Ilúvatar was very, very, _very_ overworked.

Everything in the world had to be watched, just in case something went wrong. All of the events had to be immediately classified from 'most potentially dangerous' to 'least potentially dangerous'. Each of the 'most potentially dangerous' situations had to be nudged subtly in the right direction, without any hint of anything that could be called 'divine intervention'. A battle plan had to be devised for the overthrow of Morgoth. A plan had to be devised for everything that could possibly go wrong. All the half-elf children had to come to him to become mortal/immortal.

Ilúvatar had too much to do, and there was nothing Ilúvatar liked less than having too much to do.

XXXXX

Manwë was thoughtful.

Manwë was very, very, _very_ thoughtful.

Clearly, there were two problems that could be solved instantly. Ilúvatar was overworked, Mandos was underworked. Therefore, Ilúvatar simply had to give some of his work to Mandos! The only problem was that a lot of Ilúvatar's work could only be done by Ilúvatar. In fact, that was the only reason why none of the Valar or Valier had taken on the work already. No one liked stressed Ilúvatar; when he was stressed, sometimes strange things started happening to Arda. Once the whole planet had dimmed for an entire minute before Ilúvatar had regained control. However, there was one thing that could be taken off Ilúvatar's figurative shoulders: the whole half-elf problem. Ilúvatar simply had to give Mandos something he could use to turn anyone immortal or mortal, and then any half-elves on the Valar Help Phone would be directed to Mandos, and it would be one less thing for Ilúvatar to worry about! Now he just had to suggest it to Ilúvatar.

Manwë had a mission to do, and there was nothing Manwë liked more than having a mission to do.


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: Refer to Ch. 1 for this.**

**Third Person POV**

Mandos still had nothing to do.

See, when Manwё had had his brilliant idea, he had forgotten that the job was a waiting job. It required nothing until a half-elven child actually chose. Therefore, although it was one more thing on Mandos' list, it wasn't actually one more thing for Mandos to do. After he finished examining the device in fascination, Mandos continued to be bored out of his wits. Finally, he decided to take a walk around East Beleriand in elf-form, meet a few new people, look at a different landscape… Perhaps he might even see something happy!

He wasn't sure why he brought the device. Some strange impulse, a vague feeling… but he did.

Twenty minutes into his walk, Mandos was bored again.

Everyone he met was boringly normal. The landscape was a faded version of the one he was used to. Apparently, no one in all of East Beleriand was joyful. Nothing intrigued him.

Mandos was about to give up, when he saw one lonely human setting up camp. He shrugged. One last try couldn't hurt. He purposefully made noise as he approached so as not to startle her. She watched him warily, but did not draw sword on him, as he seemed to be an elf.

Then Mandos saw her face.

He frowned. There was something… _different_ about this girl. Something that hinted of great potential, of a destiny yet unreached. But that something… He hesitated. What was it he sensed? That something… it needed time. There was not enough time for it, not enough time before its mortal vessel died. And then Mandos knew what he had to do.

He pulled out the device.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: So sorry about the unforgivably long wait. I feel terrible and have no excuse. I hope the double update will make up for at least some of it.**

**Disclaimer: Refer to Ch. 1 for this.**

**Olwen POV**

As I slowly swam out of the darkness, I became aware of myself and the environment. I was alone, and all my senses seemed strangely magnified. I was lying on my side, with my cheek pressed against surprisingly sharp blades of grass. There was a sharp scent of leaves and grass around me that I'd never noticed before, while the flowers' scents were very strong. The pollen made me sneeze and for a moment the birdsong, which had seemed amazingly loud, faltered, then resumed, while underneath their warbles and trills the insects chirped a steady undertone. Their music had never seemed so layered before. As I opened my eyes, the sunlight dazzled them and for a moment I closed them again, before slowly peeling them open. How was it that everything now seemed so vibrant and detailed? What I had seen before now seemed like an old, blurred, musty photograph.

What had happened?

I racked my brain, and slowly the memories came back. I had been setting up camp. A stranger had approached, clearly deliberately making noise to alert me. I had been suspicious, but had not drawn sword as he looked like an elf. The stranger had looked surprised for a moment and frowned, then suddenly drawn something form his clothes. I had caught a glimpse of something small, silver and metallic before the sudden darkness had taken me over.

What had he done to me?

I sat up and thought it over logically. Symptoms: temporary unconsciousness, magnified senses, and sudden energy – I felt I could run for miles. Cause – supposed elf, clearly more than he seemed, with small, silver, metallic device. Inferences – lack of intent to harm, extreme power (was he one of the Valar?) Results –

But no. It was impossible. I _couldn't_ be an elf –

... Could I?

Slowly, I reached up a trembling hand and felt the tips of my ears.

Pointed. They were pointed.

And I was an elf.


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer: Refer to Ch. 1 for this.**

**Third Person POV**

"I can't _believe_ you! What were you _thinking?_ You just _walk up_ to some _random human_ and _turn her into an elf? What _in the name of_ Eru_ could you _possibly_ have been _thinking?_ Oh right, I forgot, you _weren't_. You're supposed to be _responsible!_ Not –" Manwё spluttered in disbelief. "We have a _reputation_ to keep up here, you know! And then you _have_ to go take a walk and blow it all by using _godly power_ of the _highest order_ on some _random girl!_ I should take away your banana privileges for a yén*!"

Mandos gaped, horrorstruck. "You wouldn't!"

"Try me." Manwë said grimly.

"But –" Mandos spluttered. "I had this feeling! A really deep and compelling feeling told me that the girl could be great if she was an elf –"

"So you decided to waste _Eru's power_ on a _feeling_."

"Err... Correct?"

"You –" Manwë was beyond words. "Oh, go away and don't make me see you for another ten yéni**. And no bananas for a yén!"

"But Manwë –"

"Go!"

* An elven year, equal to 144 mortal years

** Plural form of yén


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer: Refer to Ch. 1 for this.**

**Olwen POV**

Night was falling and I was still running. I didn't even feel tired.

So much _energy_... And the wind on my face and the sweet smell of the new grass and I felt like I was flying as the landscape blurred around me...

I hadn't eaten or drunk anything since morning, but I didn't care. I was lost in the sea of sensory input. Delighting in the glories of everything around me. I floated on the tide of the smells and the sounds and the tastes and the sights, even the feel of things as I brushed past them was amazing, astounding, astonishing, awe-inspiring, and that was only the A's...

So this was what it was like to be an elf. How they must pity Men! Men with their short lives and dull senses, merely skimming the very surface of all the things around them, the many layers of the complexity of Nature –

A stream bubbled and I stopped short, cocked my head. I went absolutely still and _listened_, listened with all my might.

Yes! There it was again! That beautiful, delicate, faintest of melodies, so haunting and powerful, weaving in with the playful laughter of the stream... I had heard before, of course, that that the music of the Ainur still resided in Ulmo's realm. I had even tried to hear it, once, sitting on the bank for hours and hours just listening. But then I had been mortal. Now I was an elf.

And the music was beautiful.


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer: Refer to Ch. 1 for this.**

**Olwen POV**

I don't know how long I spent there, spellbound, just listening. But when I finally broke free, it was dawn. The sun was rising and suddenly I wasn't listening to the music, because the sunrise was... spectacular. Miraculous. Enchanting.

So many colors!

The stars were fading out and the dark velvet cloth of the sky was changing, lightening, turning to a beautiful aquamarine blue as I watched. A fiery blaze of reds and yellows and pinks and whites was rising, rising in the sky, and purples and blues and greens threaded into the cloth of the heavens, only to disappear again as the blaze of colour rose, rose and paled, so that it became merely a hearth-fire in the blue weave of a still lake. The forest brightened; deep dark shadows turned to emerald greens and earthy browns. Birds began to weave a complicated melody second only to the one in the river.

And then it was over.

And perhaps I would have turned to the river again, with its amazing song, and spent another day glorying in my newfound senses, but my stomach chose that time to remind me that it was hungry.

At least _that_ hadn't changed.

And so I sat down to eat... and then to figure out what I was going to do.


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: Sorry about the wait. I hate writer's block. **

**Disclaimer: Refer to Ch. 1 for this.**

**Olwen POV**

There really wasn't any reason to change my plans. They were so vague, even a species change didn't matter. After all, Eriador was still there, and I still couldn't think of anything else to do. If nothing else, it would be a chance to run again.

I smiled faintly as I remembered the freedom of running. I had always wondered what it would be like to run as an elf. All my friends had seemed to enjoy it far too much, definitely more than I did, in any case. They had been continually racing each other in their free time. When I had complained about it, Mablung had just laughed and –

- Mablung falling… no, I had to get past this. I frowned and forced myself back into my previous train of thought, ignoring the pain in my heart.

…Mablung had just laughed and said, "Running is amazing to us. I don't think I can properly explain it. Maybe one day something will finally rub off on you and you'll turn into a speed-obsessed elf too, _then_ we'll see how annoyed you are…"

Oh, the irony. Well, I had no inclination to complain now. Running was freedom, an escape from my thoughts and burdens. Running let me forget.

I shook myself out of my musings. It was past time to leave. I stood up, stretching, and picked up Anguirel, which surprisingly said nothing about my new and improved self. Maybe it was still brooding over my mention of Anglachel (Angie? Really?) After all, it had only been… I frowned, thinking it over. Had it really only been two nights and a day? Not even a drop in the bucket of the eternity I was suddenly faced with… It finally hit me that I was immortal. Barring injuries, I would live _forever_. That gave me so much time to do everything I had ever wanted to do, everything I would ever need to do, everything…

Yes, I would go to Eriador. I would explore a new land, and along the way, I would learn to use and enjoy everything I had just been given. Eternity, I promised to myself, would never become a bore.


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: Once again, the wait has been abominably long, and once again I have no excuse beyond a mild case of writer's block. So since this trend is unfortunately likely to continue, I would like to apologize now for this wait as well as all past and future waits for updates. This way your reading experience doesn't have to be interrupted by apologies. (And I don't have to write A/Ns anymore.)**

**P.S. To those who got this twice: I'm so sorry. Fanfiction was being uncooperative.**

**Disclaimer: Refer to Ch. 1 for this.**

**Olwen POV**

The first thing I did was to try talking to a tree. The idea had always fascinated me. How wise must a tree be, having lived so many years just watching the world pass by them? How many secret romances had passed underneath them? How many bloody scenes of death had they silently stood witness to? As a human child growing up among Elves, I had always longed to be able to touch a tree and tap into that infinite pool of knowledge and experience. Now I could.

I tentatively put my hand on an ancient oak and sent it a silent thought. 'Hello.'

'Hello, young one,' the oak replied, his thought-voice deep and measured. With his voice came a sense of welcome, and I wondered if my own thought-voice projected my emotions as well. My friends had never told me.

'Have you come solely for conversation?' the oak inquired.

I answered 'Yes,' and soon we were talking. I was awed by the steady, calm strength that lay beneath his every word, and the quietly wise perspective he offered to the sorrows in my past. He was intrigued by the story of how I had become one of the Elves – it was new to him, as things rarely were anymore. Unfortunately, our conversation was forced to end when the oak's southerly neighbours warned us of an approaching band of Orcs.

I thanked him profusely for the advice and was about to pull away when he interrupted me. 'Because you are new to this, it may not have occurred to you, but have you not always watched your friends scamper through the trees as though they were born there? Try it,' he urged. Struck by the sudden realization of another facet of my transformation, I promptly agreed. I climbed the oak and was amazed at how easily I balanced, how simple it was to jump from branch to branch as though I was flying. On occasion I felt the oak move a branch slightly to accommodate me, and that was just as amazing. Though I had been somewhat adept at tree-climbing before – mostly out of necessity – never had it felt this easy, and never had the tree actively helped me!

Unfortunately, my cloud of euphoria was soon pierced by another warning of the approaching Orcs. I quickly decided that this was the perfect opportunity to hone my waning archery skills, and settled into the oak's branches to wait. As the Orcs approached, I began firing at them, and was soon dismayed at how few of my shots hit their target. Sure, I had not used my bow in over a month, but surely I couldn't have become _that_ bad! However, I was unable to deny the evidence in front of my eyes, and was soon forced to descend and use my far superior sword and knife skills to deal with the Orcs. I quickly decided that I would need to track down more Orcs in forested areas, in order to practice my archery skills. So once the battle ended, I said goodbye to the oak and went for a stroll among the trees, searching for more Orcs to shoot.


End file.
